serted by the man she adores, can feel for her."
"And who first gained her Edmund? Would he ever have become her husband, had not I induced him?"
"I believe not; neither would she have been Queen but for you."
"No—no. Oh! how I have toiled for that ungrateful girl! How I have adored her!"
"You have been a devoted father."
"Have I not, Marianne? I have at least endeavoured to expiate my sin. I have done penance—I have spent nights unnumbered in painful vigils. I have scourged my body, till the feeble flesh has shrunk beneath the torture; yet still my mind remains unappeased. Remorse still gnaws my vitals! Oh, Marianne! how poor is earthly grandeur to a mind diseased!"
In this manner did these companions in iniquity confer; till at length, hating each other and themselves, they gave vent to mutual upbraiding, and parted with undisguised hatred and contempt. Such, indeed, is the disgusting nature of sin, that though a man may shut his
